


fool

by shmichaelbyers



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Drabble, John is a sexy beast, M/M, Morning Sex, My First Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, i mean im a little sorry, idk this thought popped in my head so i wrote it, im sorry, not betad we die like men, smii7y is a whiney baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmichaelbyers/pseuds/shmichaelbyers
Summary: john asks smitty if he wants to try somethingtitle is a song by red velvet
Relationships: John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110





	fool

**Author's Note:**

> a drabble i guess? yes im neglectin my other stories 
> 
> (i made a couple friends in this fandom and i feel like they might find this ? if they do hello and im sorry)
> 
> ty for readin and hope u enjoy lol

it’s pretty vague when it starts. john asks a simple question. 

“hey, do you wanna try something?”

so, of course, smitty responds. 

“sure.”

maybe it’s a little stupid to just say yes to something when you have no idea as to what it is you’ve signed up for, but that’s just how smitty is with john, apparently, seeing as he didn’t seem to hesitate for even a second. 

john smiles and looks pretty happy that smitty agreed, so smitty is happy that he agreed too. 

a few days after, they’re kissing. more than kissing, really. more so making out. or eating each other’s tongues, even. they had woken up not even a half an hour ago, smitty still in his boxers and john's oversized shirt, john still in his pajama pants and t-shirt himself. smitty has forgotten about the exchange. if john brought it up to him, there is a slight chance he’d remember, but yeah, gonezo from smitty’s brain. all that’s in his brain at the moment is john himself. john’s mouth, john’s lips, john’s tongue, john’s teeth when they tug at his bottom lip, john’s thumbs when they press into his hips. he can barely hear himself when he lets out a small noise at the back of his throat. but john definitely hears, evident by the death grip that the rest of john’s fingers have developed where his thumbs were just pressing. evident by the way john’s pulls him closer using said death grip, smiles against smitty’s lips when their noses bump together. 

smitty’s panting as he tugs at john’s shirt, forcefully—and slightly sadly—pulling away to breathe into john’s ear, a plead to take off his shirt as his head falls onto his shoulder. john hums, but ultimately rejects the idea. his hand moves up to grasp at smitty’s jaw, pulls his head back. smitty huffs out a “please” as john’s mouth attaches to his pulse on his neck. his hands are still tugging on john’s shirt as he lets out a small whine of john’s name. he feels a grasp on his waist, pulling him in just enough to feel the subtle grind of john’s hips. 

“fuck.” just a hint of a gasp as his thighs tense where they are around john’s hips. smitty brings a hand up to tug at john’s new hair cut. not as easily accessible, but closer to his head, makes john feel it more. and he knows john likes it, feels the exhale of air through his nose against his neck. smitty rolls his hips back into john, feels like he’s losing his mind. 

though it seems he’s not the only one. a growl-like whisper in his ear, “god, you drive me fucking crazy.” 

“then—“ shit. “then let me—let me take off your shirt.” 

john chuckles, because of course he does. “where’s my please, hm? you were asking so nicely earlier.” smitty whines again under his breath as he feels john start to move his hips consistently. 

“fuck off. i—please. okay?” 

“there you go. such a good boy for me.” smitty feels teeth tug at his earlobe before the close warmth is gone. he knows he asked for him to take off his shirt but, fuck, did he really not want him to move. but john's shirt is off, nonetheless. smitty can see the fading hickies from a few days ago when john asked smitty to ride him. it was a good night. 

their mouths come back together like a magnet, distracts smitty from the cold hands that hold his shirt up in the back just long enough for john to slip them under his boxers, grab his ass to grind them both together again. 

"where's the lube, baby?" john asks into smitty's mouth. smitty finds he's not really able to speak at the moment, his mind too occupied by the morning fogging his thoughts and the taste of minty toothpaste shared in the heat of their mouths. he just blindly grabs around the pillow he knows the bottle is under until he finds it, pushes it against john's chest with a sort of desperation. 

"just--fuck, john--just get your fingers in me already," he chokes out. his hands are shaking when john grabs them to get the lube, the other one still keeping focus on rocking their hips together. john nibbles on smitty's lip at this, rather than continuing trying to devour his tongue.

"what did i say about being good?" he mumbles and pinches smitty's ass just to hear him yelp. smitty knows john, though. knows he'd get on with it when he's in this kind of mood: tired, impatient, loving. some other times, though, if john was feeling evil enough, he'd wait until smitty would beg for it, pleading and whining 'til he cries, until john decides smitty asked exactly how he wanted him to. 

but this wasn't one of those times. the click of the bottle was indication enough for smitty that he wasn't in that sort of evil mood. for now, at least. 

it sort of felt like there was an ice cube rather than john's finger, the morning warmth of the sheets and each others' body heat a strong contrast to the bottle that was under john's special cooled pillow he insisted he bought. (he was such a drama queen sometimes). 

"cold, cold, cold," smitty hissed, arching his back insinctivelty away from the freezing lube. 

"it'll be ok in a second, baby. don't worry," john whispered from where he was now rested in the crook of smitty's neck. 

after a minute or so of smitty refusing the cold, the lube warmed up, john finally pushing his index finger in. smitty's face scrunched, the first still always felt weird to him. 

"c'mon, just add another already," he whined, pushing back against john's hand in some sort of attempt to hurry him up. john just gave him a mumbled 'yeah, yeah' before complying. smitty let out a satisfied sigh, beginning to feel the pleasure rather than just the feeling of 'there's something inside me.' 

and at four fingers, smitty kinda felt his soul leaving his body. 

"i'm ready, okay? just get on with it already. i'm gonna fucking cum if you don't stop," he whined with shuddered breaths, bucking up into john's hips without control. 

"who said i was gonna fuck you?" 

smitty won't admit himself that he whimpered like a pathetic whore, but if you asked him, he wouldn't necessarily deny it. 

"no, no, no, please, john, god, please, please, please," he begged. 

"such a slut. begging for my cock." 

"yes, yes, please, john, i--i can't--"

"oh, you can, and you will." at those words, smitty felt something tight wrap around his dick, pushing down until it reached the bottom of the base. 

a fucking cock ring. maybe john was in an evil mood. 

"no, no, john, john, oh god, i wanna cum so bad," he blabbered on, a mix of cries and pleas. but john didn't let up. 

"remember when i said i wanted to try something baby?" john mumbled into his ear. "how long do you think you can go, hm? days? weeks? how long can you go without cumming like a fucking slut? think you can handle it?" 

handle it?

oh. so that's how it was gonna be. 

"i can! you--you'll see how long i can go! actually, i bet--i bet you'll break first! you couldn't stand not having me to fuck around with for a day, i bet!" smitty retaliated, brows furrowed, but still with a hint of desperation. if john thought he was gonna win this, whatever it was, then he was sadly mistaken. he might've been the one who was begging two seconds ago, the one with his dick hard and leaking, the one who wanted to cum so fucking bad he'd do just about anything to do so, but that meant nothing!

"you've got it all wrong, sweetheart." john grabbed smitty's jaw with his hand, pressed his fingers down on his tongue just to see him gag on them. "i'll do whatever i want with you. i'll suck you off, fuck you, finger you until you cry like you were a minute ago, you just can't cum. unless you give up, of course. which is fine by me." john pulls his fingers put of smitty's mouth as he says this, wipes his saliva all over smitty's cheek before licking in his mouth. it's downright fucking filthy, but, god, is it hot. 

"you know, since you're such a little slut i wouldn't be surprised." 

and john just leaves smitty like that, on their bed with his hands clutching the sheets, his dick still hard as all hell, spit drying on his face and running down his chin. he just leaves, walks out of the room. 

and smitty thinks maybe he should learn not to just say yes to whatever john asks.


End file.
